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Los Angeles: City of Death

de Swans

Ah, we're drugged by the Sun
Here he comes, here he comes
Just waiting to become
Here he comes, here he comes
Growing in a lung
Here he comes, here he comes
Gathering our tongues
Here he comes, here he comes

Tunneling the ground
Swallowing this sound
Injecting insect dreams
That he's singing into being
Please open up your hands
You woman, child and man

Here he comes, here he comes
Here we come, here I am

Sucking colors from the root
Of the syphilis fruit
Flattening this land
Scattering the sand
Burning every tree
Burning every book
Pulverizing the ruins
Of the city that he shook
Flooding through the gates
Screaming through the wires
Flashing in the screen
Swimming in the fire
Inhaling everything
That ever was or will become
Gathering us in
To undo what he has done

Here he comes, here he comes
Here he comes, here he comes
Here he comes, here he comes
Here he comes, here we run

Run! Run!
Run! Run!
Become! Become!
Run! Run!

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